


Resolutions of wanderlust

by kasumisou



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dragons, Folklore, Gen, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-05 10:25:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3116627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kasumisou/pseuds/kasumisou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When one believes in folk stories, one gets to be a part of them.</p><p>At 19, Vladimir seeks adventure. Every day chores are becoming a bore, now that he's on vacation. Thank God it's snowy outside, he is fond of snow. At the beginning of the year, he has to go in the other part of the country by train, but, rest assured, it will be a trip to remember! He ought to keep in mind what he has seen and read, for it will be crucial if he wants to survive and also, help the others. Different times, different measures!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To turn a frown into a smile

**Author's Note:**

  * For [C. who has been putting stars in my eyes ever since we met](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=C.+who+has+been+putting+stars+in+my+eyes+ever+since+we+met).



Winter mornings are never motivational for the local inhabitants, but, in his case, it was the energy boost he needed. He did not consider the horrible weather conditions as a threat, he embraced them and found them challenging. Since he is responsible for Misha, the family’s sheepdog, he ought to refrain from complaining and start doing things. Breakfast is for champions, so he should never miss it! Today’s first meal features toast, a hard-boiled egg, strawberry jam, plus a cup of hot chocolate.

As soon as he was done eating, he washed the dishes, searched for his coat and scarf and headed out for Misha’s walk. The dog wiggled its tail and greeted his master with a loud bark. It was waiting outside its wooden shelter, a dark red dog house that once belonged to the family’s previous dog, Igor.

The young adult hid in his coat pocket a bone-shaped dog biscuit, a treat for Misha if it behaves well during the small journey. He opened the back door and let the dog run through the snow on the fields. The view was breath-taking: mountains a couple of kilometres away, the woods surrounding them, snow falling gently, everything covered in white.

He used to believe in fairy tales as a child, but now he thinks that those are for youngsters and girls. How can a place be ‘fairy-tale-like’ since there is no real-life representation of the imaginary scenery? Imaginary would be, in his mind, sea and the mountains with a couple of planets on the sky, aligned and in a way in which you can tell which planet is which. Dinosaurs, probably, making their way through huge trees and concrete buildings. Something out of the ordinary, a mixture of surprise and excitement, shocking, yet, fascinating! The only times he felt like the surroundings were like that was during his expeditions.

Vladimir shouted after Misha, his nose got rosy, not to mention his cheeks. Minus 15 degrees, thank God for no wind, otherwise he would have been out of breath in a couple of seconds. As soon as the sheepdog returned, he kneeled down, petted the animal and offered it the well-deserved treat. They both returned home, the owner closing the backdoor and sketching in his mind his itinerary. He still had a lot of things to pack for his trip to his sister’s and after that back to his temporary residence while in school.

* * *

The Volkov family resided in the outskirts of Anticfile, a developing northern town of the Old Kingdom. They used to have an apartment in the city centre, but the noise from the construction sites was too much for Mrs Volkov. The house had a small back yard that allowed the inhabitants to ‘escape’ to the fields and forest of the Fault Mountains. Many times Vladimir went camping alone, searching for a spot to focus on solitude and diminish the sorrow, making the nature a ‘safe-place’.

He loved snow, after all, the day he was brought into the world had a ‘frightful’ weather, making it clear that autumn was over. Winter meant family time, presents and, most importantly, tradition. Ecaterina Volkov, his mother, had another opinion, for it was clearly the busiest time of the year. For the Christmas gathering she had to cook a lot of festive meals to welcome the hungry guests and make them feel at home. Needless to say, it was a success, leaving no leftovers. Vladimir was fond of his mother’s cooking, and because his dorm room didn’t have a kitchen, just a small place for a microwave oven, Mrs Volkov sent him enough food for about 2 weeks.

When the young Volkov entered his house, the phone was ringing. He went up and answered the call, his father’s voice greeted him on the other side of the line.

“Finally! Where were you?”

“Out with Misha.”

“Good. I hope you haven’t forgotten about the market this evening. We have a lot to buy.”

The young adult sighed. “No, I haven’t.”

“Alright, you mother will come home earlier, she has the list.”

“Fine.”

“What’s the matter, boy? Who else stomped your heart?”

“No-one, dad, I just ran after Misha and I’m a bit worn out. That’s all.”

“Well, if you say so. Anyway, cheer up, there’s plenty of interesting things to see in the New Year.”

* * *

The Christmas market was getting crowded in the evening, in spite of the fact that the day Christ was born was over. New Year’s still counted as an important Holiday. Vladimir and his parents struggled to make way through the crowd of people, carrying plastic bags filled with goodies for the year’s transition. The young adult sighed and wondered if buying so many things would bring any cheer, but, like his old pal Joanna said, “Life is so much better when the tummy is filled”. She was probably at home as well, visiting her parents along with her fiancée, not giving a damn anymore about commuting or travelling a whole day across the country. Ever since Robert, the fiancé, moved in with her, the future looked bright. That gave Vlad a bit of hope regarding the following years.

"So, darling, anything scheduled for tomorrow night?" The mother asked.

"Gathering at Grisha’s." He replied. "His parents are away on vacation in the Alps, might as well celebrate that."

"You ought to get some liquor! It wouldn’t be nice if the guests arrive empty handed at one’s party." His father added.

"I’m not a guest; I’m like the normal lodger."

"Either way, you need to buy something. I’ll get some of last year’s wine ready in the morning. Grisha was fond of that, wasn’t he?"

"Yeah, I think so…"

Vladimir noticed a small shop selling Christmas cards with illustrations of a family of bears celebrating the event. He smiled and thought of someone who could use a small token of appreciation in the cold season. Not that the person was lacking a family, but they once said that on Christmas day they received a teddy bear from their late grandparents. He walked up to the salesman and asked:  “How much for the card?“

"Seven."

"Oh? Best Deal of today."

"They were ten but since Christmas is over, I thought maybe I’ll do a favour for those in desperate need of a ‘better-late-than-never’ card." The man laughed.

"You just made someone smile, sir." Vladimir handed him two bills of one and another one of five. "Have a wonderful year!"

"Same to you, young man!" The shop keeper said, giving the customer the desired greeting card.

Vladimir’s parents were waiting on a nearby bench. They decided it was time to head back home, for the son had a lot of packing to do.

* * *

With only two days left until New Year’s Eve, the young adult sat in his room and looked at the recently-bought card. He grabbed his pen and scribbled on it:

"I don’t normally send these, but I thought you could use a trip down memory lane. I am leaving for Clausberg  on January 1st, as you know, but after the trip is over and I am in Felixurb, do come over. Hope your internet connection lasts beyond this holiday, even if you go to a last-minute new year’s party. Will listen to those songs you recommended, it will be a tiring trip indeed.

Stay safe and take care,   
Vladimir”

Now that the card has been written on, he ought to send it as soon as possible. Vlad took the festive greeting with him, searched for his coat and placed the card in one of the inside pockets. His parents were, as usual during the last days of December, at the countryside, so there was no sight of them around the house. Misha hid in its wooden dog house, away from the snowy ground, having finished its first meal of the day. One chore off the list for young Volkov.

* * *

On the way to the mailbox, with the purchased stamp, Vladimir could not help listening to his pen-pal’s customized playlist as a sneak-peak. To his surprise, he shuffled the list, and got one of his favourite ‘to-sob-and-sulk-on’ tracks from Sectiodivina.  He did not reveal to his friend the fact that he had listened to it during a difficult time, which made him a bit embarrassed and empty at the same time.

"There are certain ‘triggers’", he remembered his pen-pal saying, "That make us feel like a pile of melted mess. Whether it’s a song, a photo, let alone a place, it reminds us of something we tried to let go of all of a sudden, instead of doing something about it. Flight or fight? Fly as high as you want, but it that thing weights you down, go back in there and kick the hell out of it! "

Shaking his head, he dropped the card into the mailbox and then headed back home. His sister called as early as possible to remind him to bring her old curling iron. “But you have curly hair, what’s the point!” he protested.

“Oh, men, you’ll never understand! I just need it, alright? First I straighten it and then I make it look like princess-hair!”

“I always thought princess hair was curly hair not wavy hair and that to straighten it you just get the hot iron sword and run it …”

“I am done with your manly talk.” The older sister mumbled.

“Well, I am done with the girly talk too. Fine, I’ll bring the device of Satan to you.” And, so, Vladimir had another item to bring to his sibling. As if holiday treats and old books were not occupying the whole extra luggage…

The 19 year old lad looked around him and noticed an old lady sitting on the stairs of a bakery at the corner of a street, shivering. He felt really bad for the woman, especially since it was cold outside and she looked like nobody helped her in any way, so he decided that perhaps it was time for him to be someone’s hero of the day. Vladimir approached her and said: “Just a moment, I’ll be right back.” and went inside the bakery.

“What can I get you?” the middle-aged baker asked.

“I’ll have, uhm…” Vladimir scanned the variety of fresh goods for something that wasn’t too sweet, nor a mess to eat. “Do you have any wheat pretzels?”

“Yes, we do. How many?”

“Two, please, oh, and a cup of chamomile tea.”

“Certainly, sir, that would be five.”

Vladimir searched for some money and then handed it to the baker. “Here. Say, has the old lady from outside been here for long?”

“Not until today, sir, she showed up about ten minutes ago, I went outside and offered her something to eat, but she wouldn’t even look at me. I thought she was waiting for someone.” The man took two pretzels and placed them in a paper bag, then placed a chamomile tea bag in a cup and poured warm water in it, then secured the drink with a plastic lid. “Have a nice day.” He added.

“You too.” The customer smiled.

The lady was still sitting on the stairs, as if she was frightened. Vladimir sat next to her, and offered her the purchased goods. “Don’t worry, they are edible. As for the tea, it’s warm and soothing. Are you searching for somebody or have you gotten lost? I must say, it’s a small town, you can easily get to the centre easily.” The woman looked at him, surprised, and took the food and drink. Holding them, she smiled and spoke: “Thank you, young man. God bless your heart and your kindness. Never in all these years has anyone spoken to me, or cared of my stories.”

“But what about the baker- Oh, if you have stories, do tell, I would like to hear them.”

“There is no time, my boy, for such things, but I will do something else as a ‘thank-you’.” Vladimir noticed that the woman had a golden necklace with the number “9” as a charm. “If you ever find yourself in trouble, think of me, and look for the fields. Then, you will pick one day of joy. Think wisely of how you will spend that one day, for it will be your reward if you get the answer right.”

That was an odd reply, certainly looked more of a mission. “Uhm… alright, I will think of you in times of trouble and think of your…hardship.”

She stood up carrying the things Vladimir got for her and started walking slowly towards the corner of the street. “I must go; you take care and never forget.”

“Ma’am, are you sure you are doing well on your own?”

“Same story every day.” She chuckled.

Vladimir tried to follow the elderly woman, but after she turned left, she was gone for good. Certainly an evening to remember for him, but he knew that he wasn’t seeing things because the baker also noticed the woman.


	2. Road to uncertainty

Grigorij Borodin has been one of Vladimir’s best chums since kindergarten; they have been classmates in elementary school before parting ways in middle school. Grisha’s parents’ traditional carpets business took off beyond the northern border, making them earn some more money than expected and opening a furniture shop in Felixurb. The Borodin family has been in the furniture industry for five generations in Anticfile.

Vladimir was no stranger at Grisha’s house, as he told his parents. With a bottle of the finest home-made wine, he impressed his best friend, who was expecting to see Volkov come over empty-handed. A few drinks later with the other close friends, Dimitri, Nikolai and Ivan, and Mr Volkov felt liberated from the ache felt a while ago.

"Theresa is at her friend’s house, lads before lasses." said Nikolai about his girlfriend.

As there was only a two minutes before the start of the New Year, couples and temporary pairings were hugging and making sure that they would not miss the fortunate kiss. The clock struck midnight, champagne and wine bottles were popped but that did not distract Vladimir from focusing on his resolution.

"Joy, good fortune and adventure ahead. Joy. Good fortune. And. Adventure. In. The. New. Year." He chanted in his mind, with his eyes closed.

Ivan patted him on the shoulder. “Are you done, great wizard?”

"Yep. At least I was not multi-tasking like the twosomes surrounding us."  
Ivan handed his mate a beer and then sat on the floor, Volkov joining him as well. The two bottles clicked: “Cheers.” They shouted and laughed wholeheartedly.

The friend took a sip of his beer bottle and lectured the other. “You’re still thinking of that human. Well, let me call her a witch. Do not say it isn’t so, we’ve had our eyes on you in spite of the distance.”

"Seriously, man, I’m feeling grand. There’s no need for you to get all soppy when we’re supposed to have a blast." Vladimir tried to change the subject nervously.

"Just making sure you comprehend. There’s a new beginning ahead of you, friendly reminder not to stay stuck in someone else’s mistakes."  
Vlad rolled his eyes and promised that he will take action as soon as possible. Not long after his vow, his phone rang. It was Anastasia. Ivan got up and grabbed Dimitri closer so that he could hear everything better. The noise from the party was not an advantage, thought Vlad. He answered the call, putting it on speaker.

"Happy New Year, Vladi. I miss you! I hope you have a wonderful year!!" The feminine voice shouted at the end of the line.

"Wow. Took you a while to say something back. So thoughtful of you." Vladimir replied.

A male voice was calling her; it was most likely Oleg, the guy with a freshly earned college degree and job as a department manager at EreNet, one of the nation’s biggest network providers. She preferred Oleg over Vladimir, leaving him over a month of silence, via a short email. No concrete explanation has been given; this is why the 19 year old from Anticfile was so bitter. He pressed the red button for ending the conversation, for it was getting ridiculous.

His friends looked at him and sighed. “A dragon is needed to burn down her assets. None shall be left as proof of her existence!” Nikolai showed up shouting his idea.

"Thanks, man, but I’ve already turned the remains of her stuff that she gave me as gifts into ashes."

Vlad opened one of the windows, looking at the mountain tops being highlighted by the half-moon shine. Suddenly, an explosion of fire emerged from one of the mountains. Was that a dragon?! That was what a legendary dragon from the Fault Mountains could do! The man rubbed his eyes in amazement, his heart beating fast. First the old lady’s disappearance, now this? It was time for him to call it a night, too many drinks equal bizarre images.

* * *

January 1st, and the journey was going to start. Mrs Volkov woke her son up, so that he would not miss the train to Clausberg. Good thing he came home earlier after the party, or else he would have woken up 20 hours later. A rich breakfast and a car ride later, 3 quarters of the Volkov household was at the rain station.

Making their way through the crowds, just like they did in the Christmas market, they got to platform 3 where Vladimir’s train was. “They are working on the old tracks, so that means we’ll go through the tunnel at the Oak’s Underpass.”

Mr Volkov helped him with the huge luggage containing the things for Eliza, along with the son’s freshly washed, dried and ironed clothing. “That route has been out of function for nearly 50 years, I have never thought of it as an emergency track.”

"I am quite excited… I never had the chance to see that part of the mountain side; you told me the stories about curses and other ridiculous fables."

"Watch it, young man, do not jinx it!" His mother hugged him.

"I will be fine; there is no need for you to warn me." He reassured her and then shook his father’s hand as a goodbye. Not long after he got into the train and carried the heavy suitcase along in the search for his seat.

"Number 21… Number 21… ah, there it is!" he thought. The man placed his luggage right above his seat, making sure that it would not fall down and, God forbid, hurt anyone. He knocked on the window, making his parents to look through it, and then waved at them as a final ‘farewell’. Mrs. Volkov smiled and tried to wipe the tears off her cheeks, while Mr. Volkov nodded to his son and embraced his wife.

The train shook back and forth, indicating that it was time for him to set off. Not long after that, the train left the station, leaving behind the small town of Anticfile. Vladimir sighed, his mother got emotional again… Even if sometimes get predictions were right, that did not mean that she had to worry about probabilities. Vladimir’s life was quite uneventful since his split with Anastasia, yet he was craving for some fun and excitement.  
The adrenaline, the curiosity of a new place, and, why not, a fight?! Good things come to those who wait, so, instead of waiting eagerly like a child on Christmas Eve (since it was so one week ago), he reached for his backpack and pulled out the book he was currently reading: ‘There is more than meets the eye’. The novel was an anthology of stories told by senior citizens, as word of mouth, about culture, tradition and… monsters. He finished it once, but he liked the topics discussed so much that it was time for a rewind.

Vladimir’s encounter with the elderly woman crossed his mind, now he remembered why she seemed so familiar. He looked through chapter 3 of the book, for the month of March, and then he chuckled. She couldn’t be a mythical character, perhaps she was some sort of retired actress trying to freak teenagers out!

He began ‘revising’ the January chapter, making sure that he started the year perfectly. Being a bit superstitious and religious, he ought to check how things were going to work out for him. On the first day of the year it is said that people celebrate in the train station, hopping in the next train leaving in the morning, not caring about the destination or what they leave behind. Vladimir smiled and looked outside the window, admiring the frozen fields and wishing he had no concrete destination. Another custom says that one must have money in their pockets, for good luck and prosperity. The young Volkov member searched his backpack for a family treasure: for about three generations, they passed on a small violet velvet bag with a few golden coins in it and a amethyst. The amethyst was for protection, although some holy water might do the trick against bad spirits.

As if he would ever need those! One of his favourite television shows featured two twin demon brothers protecting the world from the rest of the possessed family members. What if he and Eliza would have super powers and defend the country from the enemies? He could have laser beams coming out of his fingertips while Eliza would… burn the haters with her … Satan-approved curling iron. “She’s no fun, are we even related?” he thought, rolling his eyes in disappointment.

The train slowly turned right, meaning that the route was changing. They were getting closer to the western part of the Fault Mountains, a place where various legends took place. Someone said there was some sort of portal to another world, another was told that time flies so fast that when you blink you’re living in another day, and ‘There is more than meets the eye’ revealed that there might be a dragon hiding there, guarding the people’s prized possession. What that treasure might be, no-one knows, but it has been heard that the possessor of an item related to the valuable mystery presents an advantage in battle against the dragon. Oh, how amazing it would be to fight a mythical creature like that!

Vladimir was alone in the compartment, so he was lucky to have enough space to stretch his legs and probably take a short nap after the unknown route was fully discovered. The train started speeding up, the tracks made the journey a bit bumpy and Volkov’s bigger luggage moved left to right on the designated shelf. The student awoke from his voyage-euphoria and jumped off his seat and looked at the mountains outside the window when the moving vehicle entered the Oak’s Underpass, a tunnel in which people were rumoured that they disappeared or transformed into possessed creatures. Vladimir couldn’t see anything, the carriage moved violently from side to side, he grasped the emergency handle as well as his backpack and hoped for the best. In a blink of a moment, Vladimir felt a sharp punch in his head that made him let go of the handle and fall on the floor of the compartment while the noises grew louder and the shaking continued.

* * *

Breathing seemed like a gift in the confusion rush. It wasn’t warm anymore, but cold and damp, like he was swimming in a ice cold lake, yet he could breathe. The pain was decreasing and light made way through the darkness of the confined space. Vladimir Volkov opened his eyes and sighed, his heart beating faster than ever. His face was pressed against the snow, he moved slowly in order to avoid any additional broken bones or sprained joints. Laying on his back, he took a few deep breaths and massaged the sides of his torso, as well as his back. When he was able to get up, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. There was no sign of the train, not to mention any sight of the Oak’s Underpass. Instead, a gray brick wall was in the middle of the rail tracks, which was extremely unusual!

“Where the hell am I?” he though.

The Fault Mountains were still there, the snowy fields as well… which meant that he was a few kilometers away from Anticfile. Looking around, he noticed a village at the bottom of the mountains. It looked like one, because there was smoke coming from a couple of old houses. He could not remember seeing a village there before getting in the tunnel. That certainly did not stop him from searching for help over there. When he has seen light again, he has also seen his backpack laying next to him. Vlad opened it and checked the things he had in it. The book, ‘There is more than meets the eye’, his cell phone, an orange and a piece of his mother’s apple pie, bottle water, a pen, a 2B pencil, his small sketchbook, a pocket knife, a pack of handkerchiefs, his gray woolen scarf knitted by his grandmother, and the ‘family treasure’. The cell phone would not work, the battery was discharged and his charger was…

Where could his luggage be? In the train? Stolen? “As if someone could just run away with that rock…” he said to himself. If it was in the train, then where was the train? If there was a brick wall in the middle of the tracks, where would it go? This was the most difficult situation he has ever been in, and he did not have a lot of options to choose from. Vlad picked up his backpack and made sure that he was not forgetting any of his last remaining items from the backpack behind, and headed towards the village.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, and thank you so much for considering reading my story. I must say, beforehand, that English is not my 1st language, but my 2nd, and the story might look like it has been written in a hurry. The concept behind this is that it is written as a gift for someone dear to me, however, I would like others to see what I am writing for them.
> 
> Any type of feedback is welcomed! I will take my time to write again some things in order to improve, because I know that some parts are a bit 'rushed'. Sharing it with others would also be appreciated <3


	3. Where, who, WHEN

And so his journey began. The snow was crumbling under his boots, his breath turned into small clouds, just like a dragon would breathe fire. Speaking of that, he remembered the scene from the New Year’s Eve party. “Wasn’t that yesterday?” he muttered. Vladimir ran his ringers through his black wavy hair and stopped for a moment in order to process the images running in his mind.

"My name is… Vladimir Volkov. I am 19. I have an older sister, Eliza Volkov. My… my parents are Anton and Ecaterina Volkov. We were all born and raised in Anticfile, the Old Kingdom. I had Igor, but he was put off, and now… we have Misha. Last night I was… at Grisha’s. Last night she called me. Last night I have seen that thing… Last night… I might have had a bit too much to drink and I went home…" were the memories that he could gather.

"Great, so at least I know who I am and where I come from, but, still, where the hell am I?"

Never in his life has the young adult found himself on the snowy fields in an unknown territory, with just his backpack besides him, especially with a weird wall on the train tracks! It was normal for someone to have their seconds of panic to dust off the blackout. “For goodness’sake, Volkov, put yourself together fast, you’re embarrassing your ancestors and future offsprings!” Even at 19 he was secretly dreaming of having at least one son, a loving wife and a wonderful career, plus those amazing stories to tell his children. He grinned when he realized that he might have a story which he could share with the little ones in at least 10 years from that day on.

Thank God he wasn’t in the middle of a blizzard, or else he wouldn’t have been walking at that moment, searching for an explanation. He still had his wallet in his coat’s left pocket, so it would not have been a problem regarding his stay in someone’s guest room. The woods were at the bottom of the mountains, after the village, so he was also grateful that the sun was hidden behind the clouds, because the wolves would attack him and he had no ‘weapon of choice’, not even a stick. He walked and walked for over thirty minutes, until he finally got to the village.

Vlad noticed that everything was slightly different than what he was expecting to see there. First of all, the Christmas market was still there, and, secondly, the people were dressed differently. Oh, and not to mention the shops that looked ancient! “Could this be a filming location?”

Wandering along the streets, Vladimir then spotted a bakery that reminded him of the one back in Anticfile, and the weird encounter crossed his mind for the second time during his trip. He took a deep breath and entered the shop, only to be greeted by the warmth of the ovens and the smell of freshly baked pound cakes. His stomach faintly grumbled when he felt the sweet scent, making him order something, otherwise it would have been rude for him to stop and… sniff.

"Hello. How can I be of service?" A man resembling the one at the bakery in Vlad’s hometown greeted him.

"Hello, uh, can I have a…" Again, it took him a couple of seconds to figure out what to order. The display cases in front of him featured slices of pound cake, raspberry tarts, pretzels, loafs of bread, chocolate biscuits and cheese pies. He went for a few biscuits, looking at the price, or rather gaping at it. "One for five biscuits? Holy sunflower, that is extremely cheap!!"

"I must say, sir, you are the first customer to say this to me. Might I ask where you are from?"

"Why? I don’t look like I could be living here?" the boy chuckled.

The man explained: “Exactly. I know every family here, and this bakery has been a family business for almost four decades. Most of the time we are the bread providers of this place, and I believe I have never seen you before.”

"I come from Anticfile."

"Oh, my, I do hope this village suits your taste…"

"Why wouldn’t it?"

"Well, as a man coming from a developing town, you ought to have seen way more things compared to the rest of us!" Vladimir felt a bit odd after hearing the man’s comment. Why would he think of Anticfileans like that?

"Don’t worry, I am glad this place is my shelter for tonight." Or so he was hoping. "Uh… I was wondering… where are we? I just got here by foot, never been around these places before… thought I could use a new sight…"

  
The baker raised one finger as if his customer had to wait a bit and went to the back of the shop. He returned shortly with five fresh out of the oven cookies, dropping them in a bag and exchanging it with Vladimir’s money. “This is Glasmoene. It is about a couple of hours from Articfile, which is why I am surprised to hear that you walked this much! Nothing ever happens here, except for something like a prophecy of some sort.”

Vladimir couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Glasmoene was the village his grandfather was born in, until everybody left to Articfile when he was about five years old. It has been said that there has either been an avalanche or a great fire, anyhow, a hazard that annihilated the place. It has been kept a secret by the people of the Old Kingdom, which made the young Volkov want to know the truth behind this curious case. But, then again, why would they be in Glasmoene, if it was gone for over 70 years? This was getting peculiar by the minute.

"Prophecy?! And what would that be?"

"I do not know too many things about it, but I will let you know on what I heard. There is this dragon up in the Fault Mountains, and it guards the stolen gold and jewelry from the village. By the way, if you want to know more about this, I believe that the innkeeper that lives two streets away would be a better story-teller. You can also book a room if you have nowhere to stay, they are really nice."

The customer ate one of the cookies and saw a newspaper on the counter. He turned it around and looked at the date. His heart nearly stopped when he read “21st of December 1939”. 1939.

"Are you alright, sir?" the baker asked.

"Well… yes, so, where can I find that innkeeper?"

The baker put his right hand on the counter and drew lines in the air as if to give directions. “When you get out, you go straight ahead, turn left, then right, and the inn will be a house on the right.”

"So… out, ahead, left, right, right….right?"

"Right. "

"Thank you for the service. I’ll make sure to spread the word about your bakery. You know, tell my friends from Anticfile about this place." Vladimir smiled awkwardly and then left without hearing the man’s reply. It took him a bit to come to his senses, because it is not normal to learn that you are in a soon-to-be-vanished village, over 70 years in the past.

Following the instructions, the student found himself in front of the inn, a house made out of red bricks and wood. ‘Wolf’s hideaway’ was the name of the place. Hesitating, Vlad was wondering if searching for his family, as in searching for his grandfather and great-grandfather was a good idea or not. It would certainly be odd to find them and shout: “It is me, you certainly will know me, grandfather, but you, great-grandpa, won’t. Long story short: I have no idea how the hell I got here, but I am a time-traveler of some sort, let me predict your future.”. To cheer up, he thought of the possibility of turning into a fortune-teller, like that one character the charming actor Frederick Ampersand played in ‘Draw the curtain’. People would kill to hear their fake future, not to mention pay.

"Shame on you, thinking of such rubbish!" Shaking his head, he entered the building.

The main hall was the reception, with the brown wooden floor, a long mahogany table placed in the middle of the room, surrounded by six chairs that matched the design of it. A huge map of the Old Kingdom was hanged on the right wall. The visitor wished he had that in his own house, a vintage touch. He was really fond of cartography, he sketched some maps himself in his free time in high school. Going to check the details, he heard footsteps.

"A visitor at last!" A man in his forties greeted him. He too look strangely familiar, black wavy hair like his, as tall as him, but he also had a beard and a mustache, while Vladimir had shaven the morning he left his house. He also was wearing a pair of round glasses. Approaching him, the man added, shaking Vladimir’s hand: "Welcome, welcome, young man! Would you like to stay in one of our rooms?"

"Uh, yes, this is why I am here…"

"Great! Splendid!" The innkeeper sat down on one of the chairs, inviting the visitor to join him, then he pulled one of the table’s drawers in which he had a purple notebook and a few pencils. "The fee is eight per night, so if you could be so kind to tell me how long are you intending to stay, as well as your name, and then sign after it, that would be all."

One aspect that the Anticfilean has forgotten to think about was his identity in this time travelling madness. Obviously, when put in such situation not everything can be covered. “I, uh, I am …” Panicking a bit, he looked around the room. “Vladimir… Just Vladimir.”

The man raised his eyebrow and laughed. “No surname? Are you on a mission?”

The other coughed: “Diplomatic mission, better keep things short and simple.”

"I understand… and how long will you be staying here?"

"Two…days?" Clearly, he has uncertain because of not knowing when he will come back home to his own era.

"Well then, sixteen and sign here!" Vladimir reached for one of the pens and then sketched his signature in the designated area. Thumping footsteps were heard, as if someone was running down the stairs. Suddenly, a young boy around the age of five showed up and then jumped on the man’s back. "Easy now, lad. No need to claim your territory, we have a guest now."

The boy stared at the guest. He resembled his father, with his black wavy hair and kind smile, and he as well seemed familiar to the expat. “What did you say your name was?” The man asked young Volkov.

"Oh…mine? Vladimir. Named after my grandfather."

The youngster shouted: “That’s my name, you can’t have it!!”

"Great name, name of a ruler, a courageous man. It’s just me and him, his mother died of an illness two years ago."

"I’m… very sorry to hear that." Vladimir looked down at the wooden floor and remembered that his great-grandmother had also passed away due to an illness around those times. Those two looked like the members of his family, he has seen the photo albums a while ago, but it was impossible… His grandfather had the same name as the boy. One scary question had to be asked: "Sir, I didn’t catch your name." the young adult inquired.

"Where are my manners? I am Dimitri Volkov, owner of the inn."

The man’s introduction confirmed his fears, making the student’s stomach turn. He stared at the two in shock. “Is something the matter?” He couldn’t reply, he couldn’t even make a sound. The day was too overwhelming for him, and thank God he was sitting because otherwise he would have been laying on the floor for the second time. The room was getting a bit fuzzy, but he shook his head and then covered his eyes with his hands, with his elbows resting on the mahogany furniture piece. What has he ever done to deserve such news, or to end up in this century? Why was he there, and not on his way to Clausberg to hand over Satan’s curling iron to Eliza? What will ever happen to his family, will they search for him like one of those lost people that one sees on the papers early in the morning? He was with his family at the moment, but he still would not accept it.

"Let me get you a glass of water, alright? Vladi, you stay here." The older gentleman got up and left the room, leaving the two Vladimirs together in silence. The child moved the chair next to the visitor’s and then sat next to him. "My father says that when I am sick I should think of the stars and remember that someone up there wishes me well." Vladimir burned into tears hearing that, for it was something his grandfather said when he was little as well.


	4. On the edge of the reserved seat

If this was some kind of practical joke, the student was not getting it. Indeed, he wanted to go on an adventure or get in a fight, just for the sake of the adrenaline, but this was like a sword through the heart, simply unbearable. He wondered when he will get back in the era he was living in a while ago, and how will he return to Anticfile. Yes, he could walk up there or go by carriage, but his home did not exist back then, let alone his parents and friends! The warm tears rolled down his cheeks, reminding him that what he was going through was indeed real, as the younger version of his grandfather stayed by him. The boy stood up and embraced the other Vladimir by the waistline. "Don't cry, mister! I won't take your name away, I will share it with you!" Vladimir tried to catch his breath and looked at the child, who was worried that his previous ‘warning’ brought sadness upon the new guest.

Mr. Volkov shortly returned with a clear glass of water for the expat. “Are you alright there, mister?”

“Now I am, he said he’ll share the name.” The youngster wiped his tears with his right palm, still shaking from the shock.

Dimitri patted his son on the shoulder. "One of the secrets of parenthood: the offspring always, and I mean, always reminds us to look on the bright side of life, no matter if they know how impossible it is for us or not. If you find yourself in trouble in this town, you can come to me for advice. I know how one can get around this place, not that I have been in your situation, but I have heard some crazy stories ever since I have opened up this inn."

“Oh, boy, would you flip if you heard mine!” the other pondered gazing at the Old Kingdom’s map.

"I reckon your journey has made you really tired.” The owner opened one of the table’s drawers again, this time with a key that he had in his trousers ‘pocket, only to reveal a set of others that were each designed for opening rooms. “You can go on up the stairs, first floor, room seven. Like I said, ever need anything, I will be around this place. The staff will arrive in…”the man searched his coat, looked at his pocket watch and continued: “Half an hour. Everyone is entitled to a short break, aren’t they?”

“Certainly, they are…” Vladimir got up his chair, took the key and his backpack and went searching for his room, leaving the owner and his son behind.

The hostel seemed bigger on the inside, it had about 3 levels, with seven rooms per floor. That would make a total of 21 guest rooms, in which the staff might also live. Either way, at least ten were vacant. The stairs, made out of brown wooden planks, complemented the rest of the building, with the concrete walls covered in cadet grey wallpaper, and black wooden doors on his left side. On the right wall of the first level a series of odd paintings were hanged. Each painting had a peculiar scenery of its own, although, to Vladimir, he has seen them somewhere before, most likely in those art textbooks that he rarely bothered to open in school. The first painting out of five featured people dressed for the beach in what it looked like late 19 th century fashion, looking at a huge wave while it was still sunny outside. As if it was not bizarre enough, the rest portrayed either gladiators fighting fruit or flowers in a battlefield.

The guest shuddered and turned his back at the ‘masterpieces’, to go to room seven. Twisting the key in its hole, he opened the door to reveal a simple room, with plum wallpaper, a single bed with white bed sheets, a small table made out of iron, with a mahogany stool besides it, a wardrobe and an elegant mirror next to it. Plum blinds were drawn side to side to make way for the sun rays out the window. He looked through the window and observed the street where he stood before, with so many questions before the third hit of the day. People shopping for food or going to work on various things wandered the paved way.

Vladimir drew the curtains, dropped his backpack on the floor, took off his coat and shoes one by one and crashed on the perfectly-made bed. The sheets smelled like the old traditional soap from a Felixurb factory that his mother was also using, so that eased his homesickness in order to fall asleep quickly.

* * *

Another location new to him, it was a fancy ballroom, but he was still dressed in his casual clothes. Big windows with similar curtains like those of his temporary bedroom’s, a Chrystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. He was alone, but he heard a rumbling sound louder and louder. The room’s big doors opened and a lot of students dressed up for what it looked like an elegant party rushed in. The room lightened up and Sectiodivina started playing, specifically his favourite song “Throw me a thought”. The band was on a stage that appeared out of nowhere. Was it a prom or a birthday bash? Couldn’t tell.

“Vladimir, hey, over here!” a voice shouted after him. Odd how he could hear anything besides his favourite tune.

It was his pen pal, making their way through the crowd, looking dapper and ready to shine in the flash light of the cameras. The younger man tried to get closer to his friend but for some unknown reason the rest of the people were forming a barrier between them. “Nothing lasts forever, Vladimir, we all die in the end so it ends in a way. It ends, you know, you ought to keep this in mind. You will die. One day, you will.”

The place started shaking and it felt just like in the train compartment, and the room’s big windows exploded into pieces, scattering those on the floor along with bits of the curtains that caught fire. The building was under attack, the noise growing louder and louder.

* * *

Vladimir awakened from his nap quickly after realizing that the noise in his dream was someone knocking on the door and not at all an attack. He got up as fast as he could and opened the door, being greeted by a middle-aged man, a bit taller than him, with a handlebar mustache and former attire.

“Sorry to disturb you, sir, but Mr. Volkov asked me to inform you that dinner is served in about ten minutes, in the room after the lobby.” He stated.

“I… understand. Thank you for telling me.” Vladimir closed the door and thought: “My family had a butler? He definitely seemed like one. But what if he is a gardener?! He did in fact call my great-grandfather ‘mister’… or maybe they are business associates… But why would a business associate tell me that I should go and dine?” To him, household staff was a bit too much, and he did not know that many things about his grandfather’s past. All he could find out was that Glasmoene had to be evacuated, that his great-grandmother passed away from an illness, that his great-grandfather had a few savings in order to offer him a future, that he had no other siblings… pretty much no important information that would help him get out of this mad world safely.

Except for the ‘family treasure’: the violet velvet bag with the golden coins and small amethyst. No explanation was given besides: “I have inherited this from my father, in order to give it to my cherished grandson, to keep the bad spirits away.”. It sounded more like a lucky charm rather than a family heirloom that could unlock unanswered questions. Unless, Dimitri Volkov could enlighten him, after, certainly, having a minor heart-attack at the reveal of his great-grandchild’s confession. “Gosh, it is worse than ‘Surprised and amazed’.”, thinking of the silly TV show he skipped from the nation’s main channel with the host that looked like a cheap copy of a fairy godmother. “I could use some advice from the Shepard brothers. They could save me, but that would be embarrassing, I am no damsel in distress.”

With all the thinking, Vladimir did not notice that it was getting dark outside. The street lights were on, people hurried back to their houses for supper. Speaking of supper, his stomach was protesting again, the nerves topped the purchase from the bakery. He reached for his winter boots and put them back on, adjusted his charcoal grey woollen jumper and headed downstairs. Along the stairs, a girl that looked about twenty was polishing the railing with a white cloth. She was plump, with her hair up in a braided bun, she did her job cheerfully. “Welcome, sir. Enjoy your stay.” she chimed, doing a bow. “Thank you.” The student smiled back.

He passed through the lobby, arriving in the dining room at the end of the hallway. As expected, the furniture was the same as it was at the main entrance, wooden. A grandfather clock was notifying the members of the staff that it was 6 o’clock, or dinner time for guests and the owners in their schedule. The table already had various plates of food placed on a traditional red cloth, such as polenta, fried trout, tomato salad, fruit and freshly baked bread. For desert, a chocolate cake was made. Dimitri Volkov was standing at the other end of the table, reading the day’s newspaper.

“Sit, sit, mister Vladimir.” He cheered.

“Don’t mind if I do.” The young adult sat opposing his great-grandfather. “Just us?”

“Yes, well, you see, this is an important meal, more like a meeting, in which we must discuss crucial aspects of your staying here.”

That sounded like trouble, and Vlad’s heart almost stopped. Did he already cause trouble? He just went to have a little snooze at the owner’s recommendation, only to be awaken by the … valet? Or whoever he was.

“Help yourself, but I advise you not to start taking a bite yet, for we must solve something before we can enjoy the meal.” The man added in a serious voice. “I know why you are here.”

Mortified, the traveler mumbled: “Y-you do? How come?”

“Well, first of all, that is quite a fashionable pack you brought with yourself, must be the latest trends. But the contents of it have proven to me that you are the wanted character we have been waiting for.”

The guest grabbed a corner of the table, feeling threatened. What happened while he was asleep? “Did you search through my belongings!? I warn you, sir, for this, our next meeting might be in court.” Trying to be diplomatic and act like a proper grown-man, he just blurted those words.

“I took the liberty to peek at the contents while you handed me the money and left the bag opened. Violation of privacy? One may say so, but it proved a point.”

“What point, might I ask? That I am indeed out of this village? I daresay it is fairly obvious that I am traveler!” Bothered by the inn owner’s discovery, the younger Volkov member wanted to leave the room. Ever since he was small he was private about many things, and respected everyone’s personal space and need of protecting their rightful items, so it seemed outrageous for a stranger to debate with him such subject.

“Sit down, mister Vladimir. I am not done yet.”

Vlad turned around, raising his voice: “I am sorry, but how can I stay here since you refer to me as a ‘wanted character’ and discuss my belongings?”

“Because you are here for a reason, because you are here for some answers and because you are here for a purpose. You are not part of these times, nor were you ever born in this century, but may God help me if I will ever let the one who can fix this madness get out of my building without guidance for what is after him out there.” Dimitri Volkov shouted. “So, if you can please sit down, honorable time travelling guest, you have to eat in order to maintain your energy.”

Vladimir returned to his seat and glared at the host who was smiling kindly at the other end of the dining table. “Dragons, witchcraft, folklore. Are you familiar with these terms?”

“Yes… Yes, I am.”

“You arrived here for some answers. I am here to provide some for you, because I have read more about this along the years. My wife, she did not pass away from illness. She disappeared.” So, his great-grandmother might have been alive while they were speaking? “The days go backwards, the year goes from December to January, not vice-versa. It was a failed trade with the dragon, it offered us more than it could, although it is a greedy bastard, as well as those messengers were. You found yourself lost in the middle of nowhere, in a region which you considered home just a while ago.”

“How do you know this, sir?”

The man did not wipe the smile off his face. “The baker arrived while you dozed off. He told me about you, that you were surprised about the time, let alone how much the baked goods cost. If you were indeed living before in Anticfile, you wouldn’t have bothered to come here, because we will be soon coming to Anticfile for shelter. It won’t be your fault, it will be our privilege. That is, if things go right, but seeing you here leaves me thinking that we are on the right… track, hey?” he laughed wholeheartedly. “Now let’s start eating, I am famished.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and thank you so much for considering reading my story. I must say, beforehand, that English is not my 1st language, but my 2nd, and the story might look like it has been written in a hurry. The concept behind this is that it is written as a gift for someone dear to me, however, I would like others to see what I am writing for them.
> 
> Any type of feedback is welcomed! I will take my time to write again some things in order to improve, because I know that some parts are a bit 'rushed'. Sharing it with others would also be appreciated <3


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